Chapter 6 - DR. VALE
Rachel went anyway.
Of course she did.
At 9:42 the next morning, she parked across the street from Adrian Vale’s private medical office.
Grant’s SUV arrived at 9:56.
Rachel watched him sit in the driver’s seat for nearly three minutes before getting out.
He looked exhausted.
For once, she didn’t enjoy seeing it.
Grant disappeared inside.
Rachel waited thirty seconds.
Then followed.
The receptionist looked up.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m Rachel Whitmore.”
The woman’s face changed.
That was enough.
“Dr. Vale is expecting my husband.”
“He requested a private meeting.”
“I didn’t request privacy.”
“Mrs. Whitmore—”
A door opened.
Grant stood in the hallway.
“Rachel?”
Behind him was Adrian Vale.
In person, he looked older than the photograph.
Seventy, maybe.
Silver hair.
Perfect posture.
Eyes that made Rachel’s skin crawl because they were strangely familiar.
Maddie’s eyes.
Or Grant’s.
She couldn’t decide which was worse.
Vale smiled.
“Mrs. Whitmore.”
“Doctor.”
“I was hoping to avoid unnecessary distress.”
Rachel laughed.
“You may have put your sperm inside me without my consent. I think we passed unnecessary distress.”
Grant whispered, “Rachel.”
Vale did not flinch.
“I understand why you’re angry.”
“No, you understand why I could sue you.”
“Please. Come in.”
His office was immaculate.
No family photographs.
No clutter.
Just medical books, awards, and framed articles praising his work.
MIRACLE DOCTOR GIVES HOPE TO INFERTILE COUPLES.
Rachel wanted to smash the frame.
Vale sat.
“Your clinic is making serious allegations,” Rachel said.
“They’re protecting themselves.”
“From what?”
“Recordkeeping failures.”
“Did you substitute donor sperm?”
“No.”
Too fast.
Rachel saw Grant notice too.
Vale folded his hands.
“In the early years of reproductive medicine, procedures were less standardized.”
“We’re talking about six years ago.”
Vale’s face tightened.
“Your case was unusual.”
“How?”
“You had multiple failed cycles.”
Rachel stared.
“That’s in my records.”
“Yes.”
“You weren’t my doctor.”
“I reviewed difficult cases.”
“Did you touch my specimen?”
“No.”
“Did you handle my insemination sample?”
Vale’s jaw shifted.
“I do not recall.”
Grant leaned forward.
“What about my mother?”
Vale went still.
Grant slid the old photograph across the desk.
For the first time, Vale lost control of his expression.
Only for a second.
But Rachel saw it.
Grant did too.
“You remember her,” Grant said.
“I treated hundreds of women.”
“My mother saved letters from you.”
Vale pushed the photograph back.
“Your mother was a patient.”
“Was my father’s sperm used?”
“Grant,” Vale said calmly, “you are walking into territory that can damage your family permanently.”
Grant stood.
“That’s not an answer.”
“Sit down.”
“Was Walter Whitmore’s sperm used to conceive me?”
Vale’s silence became enormous.
Grant’s voice dropped.
“Am I your son?”
Rachel felt the room tilt.
Vale looked at him.
Then at Rachel.
Then back at Grant.
“You deserve accurate information,” he said.
Grant laughed bitterly.
“That sounds like a yes.”
“It sounds like I’m recommending proper testing.”
“Take one.”
Vale frowned.
“What?”
Grant grabbed a glass from the desk, drank from it, then placed it in front of Vale.
“Swab your mouth. Now.”
“Grant—”
“Do it.”
Vale’s calm finally cracked.
“You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“No,” Grant said. “That seems to be the family tradition.”
Rachel almost felt proud of him.
Almost.
Vale stood.
“This meeting is over.”
Rachel blocked the door.
“No.”
Vale looked at her.
“If Maddie’s DNA matches yours, I will destroy you.”
Vale’s eyes hardened.
“You think you know what happened.”
“I know enough.”
“No. You know nothing.”
He walked closer.
“Ask your husband why he chose donor number 1187.”
Rachel frowned.
Grant went pale.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
May you like
Vale looked directly at her.
“Grant didn’t choose that donor by accident.”
